I probably should point out that I'm not anti-religious -- every modern religion teaches peace and love, and the repudiation of hate. Unfortunately, there are preachers, rabbis, and imams who claim hate and fear to be the message of their god; and, even more unfortunately, there are people who believe them. So, I'm nowhere close to repudiating the God of Christianity in this story; but hate-mongers who claim to speak for Him are fair game.

This story is gay fiction. It is copyrighted and cannot be reproduced in any medium without my express permission. If you are a minor in your country of origin, don't read.

I have two other series running on Nifty: GLOBAL ENTERTAINMENT appearing in the Incest folder and ILLUSIONS in the Beginnings folder. If these two stories don't give you enough hot vampires and mortals, Starbooks has just released my LOVERS WHO STAY WITH YOU, and that has 28 tales that'll have you offering your neck to the next guy who offers to lick it. <G> You can help Nifty by using its link to A Different Light bookstore when buying this book.

I'd love to hear from you -- tell me what you think of this story, Illusions, or Global Entertainment. Just please put the title of the story in the subject box so that I won't delete your message along with all the spam I get. I'm at vichowel@aol.com.

Dave MacMillan




By Tuesday evening, Brenda guessed she'd messed up big time with Sammy. Standing in the kitchen of her apartment, she just couldn't figure out how.

She hadn't followed him into his bedroom like a bitch dog in heat. She'd sort of wanted to, but she didn't want to be near Sammy's thing since she saw it in that queer's ass -- not until Jesus had purified Sammy, she didn't.

She'd been sweet to him, too. She was even going to let him take her out to dinner. They'd been getting along real good.

Until that nasty queer Paul had showed up.

Maybe she hadn't been nice to him, but what could anybody expect? Queers were abominations and condemned by God. No right-minded person would have anything to do with one of them. The devil inside Sammy had already claimed Paul's soul; it shouldn't have gotten mad at her for being a little rude to someone it already owned. After all, once they were married, she'd keep Sammy away from queers. Besides, they were practically married already; Sammy just had to pop the question.

Maybe the devil in Sammy got mad when she'd talked to Jesus. In The Exorcist, it'd taken a lot of hard praying to get rid of the demon. She'd thought that was because it was idolators doing the praying. But she could be wrong. Maybe a casual invitation to Jesus to join them just wasn't enough to kick the devil out of a man.

Brenda needed to talk to her Daddy. Rastus Reed knew how to do God's work better than any man. She just couldn't tell him that Sammy was an abomination. Or how good he was in bed. There were some things her Daddy didn't need to know.

She rubbed her hands together and gave a little jump. She'd just drive down to Brunswick the next day and spend a long weekend with her family. That would give her time to feel Daddy out before she started grilling him about exorcism.

Her boss wouldn't mind. He never did. He was a Christian gentleman.

Her keychain hanging beside the sink caught her attention. She didn't just have a key to Sammy's condo, she also had a key to his office.

His office. Maybe there was something in his files about the evil on Taylor Mountain. Something she could use, or her Daddy could. Defeating that evil was the only way she was going to be able to save Sammy.

She nodded and grinned. "Thank you, Jesus," she mumbled.

* * *

Rastus Reed was not happy as he sat down for breakfast Wednesday morning. He was horny. It'd been a week since Troy last fucked him.

Troy had been in Brunswick all that week. Troy had accepted Jesus as his Savior. Troy was now Gospel Baptist's youth minister. From everything Rastus had heard, Troy was doing a good job of working with the kids.

Rastus wanted Troy's dick in his butt. The man was that good. But Rastus couldn't have that ten inch monster ever again.

The old saw that a man shouldn't shit where he ate applied to continuing anything with Troy. The church couldn't know about either of them, nobody in Brunswick could. If that wasn't enough, there was the fact that Troy had been saved. Rastus accepted that God forgave him his abomination. He was that important to God's workings. But no other man was. Getting Troy back into bed would condemn the man's immortal soul. Rastus wasn't about to risk his special relationship with God, not even for a ten inch pole.

Rastus was horny as hell and wondering about dragging out his trip to Atlanta into the whole weekend in order to check out the escort services there when Brenda called to tell him she'd be home on Thursday and wanted to talk to him. At least, he told himself after Brenda hung up, he'd still be able to have his session with Paul. He might even be able to pick the man's brains about the best escort service in Atlanta.

* * *

By Thursday afternoon, it had already been a great week and Paul had stayed happy. He'd even looked forward to coming home every night. To Sammy. Sammy had also invited him out to his mountain hide-away for the weekend. Yeah, it'd been a great week -- and it was only going to get better now that it was winding down.

His boys had shown up to work on time; and there hadn't been one maid-service customer who'd complained. That was a record in itself. A couple of his clients in his other business had grumbled -- about him being too relaxed, too easy-going, when he was punishing them. Everyone of them had guessed that he was in love and were just ribbing him, rather than actually complaining.

He couldn't believe he was that obvious but, then, he'd never felt this way before. Of course, he'd never had a lover before. He'd had plenty of men over the years; he'd even bagged a few cherries along the way, but everyone of them had been just a sex partner -- even the daddy who'd given him his start as a dominator-for-hire.

Sammy Taylor was different. Paul wanted Sammy -- in bed and out of it. Sammy made love to him, even if it was all one-way. And nobody had ever done that before.

Sammy was one layer of mystery on top of another. Paul figured it might take him years to pull back each one before he'd find the last clue to who Sammy Taylor was. He was still trying to figure out who that first Sammy who'd bedded him the first two times was.

Paul was just as glad that Sammy had disappeared, though. Hours at a time riding Sammy's pole had sure convinced him that he was a bottom. But he'd been left with a sore asshole each time.

This Sammy, the one he was falling in love with, was gentle and considerate. He might only fuck Paul once or twice in a night, but he made sure that they both had cummed. He made sure they were both satisfied with their sex. Paul just felt complete when one or the other of them would get dressed and return to his own condo for the night.

The hours at a time that he'd ridden that first Sammy's pole were -- he wasn't sure what they were. Pure lust was part of it. The satisfaction of being so completely dominated was another part of it. It'd been like his brain turned off and he was just plain out fixating on taking Sammy in him and keeping him there. He'd actually started to act like a woman with a dick-starved cunt.

This new Sammy didn't even try to stay hard after he'd shot his load. He wasn't about to stay hard and keep going. He didn't have to. It had somehow stopped being sex and become love-making last Sunday. And love-making was a whole different thing. It was a giving and sharing. What they'd had before was a dominating thing, a thing where Sammy dominated Paul and Paul took it.

Paul hadn't even watched one video to get off the past week. He hadn't had to. But maybe he should have. He might have seen this mess coming then. It might not prove to be a mess, but it sure looked like it. He still didn't know if he should tell Sammy about it.

The cleaning crew that had Taylor Securities last night reported They'd found Brenda going through some of the files in the office. She'd acted like she was supposed to be there, put the files back, and made some nasty-assed comments about men being men as she was leaving.

Paul was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be there. He had to guess that Sammy had given her a key sometime in the past year. But why was she there?

Should he tell Sammy about her?

He didn't want to come off as catty. That'd kill whatever he and Sammy were getting into faster than anything he could imagine.

But why had she been going through Sammy's files? It didn't make any sense. As far as Paul knew, most of Sammy's clientele was gay. He'd sure spend the past year or so working the gay community. There wasn't a gay man around who'd feel sorry for a woman blubbering about being jilted -- not if her former boyfriend was with a man, they wouldn't.

Then, there were the snatches of rumor his crew at Brenda's ad agency had picked up on Tuesday. She was going around telling her co-workers that she was going to have a big surprise for them soon. The bets were on her sporting a diamond on her left hand.

It'd be one thing for her to have found some poor straight boy who offered to marry her to get a piece off her -- Paul had to admit that she was that attractive. It was possible she'd found such a guy and worked him into proposing in the three or four days since she'd seen Sammy. But, if she had, why was she snooping through Sammy's files?

And, then, there'd been that crap that Rastus Reed had unloaded on him yesterday morning. Rastus had breezed into Atlanta for his two hundred dollar session of humiliation and punishment. God, but Paul hated him! A slimy televangelist paying top dollar to be humiliated and whipped. Paul had given him his money's worth, too. The man deserved it for pushing that crap.

Rastus was going to hold a revival up in north Georgia starting in two weeks. Paul hadn't paid much attention to the man's rambling. He was always telling him about his plans when Paul was whipping him. And they'd never meant anything to Paul.

But he'd let it drop that the revival was going to be in Tugaloo county, and Paul knew that Sammy's mountain was there. That had caught his interest.

Rastus was going to preach against abomination. The man couldn't get over how easy it was to rile people up with homosexuality. He'd thought it was funny with him naked and tied up with Paul laying leather across his fat ass. There was supposed to be a whole mountain up there that was queer.

So, how much of this did Paul lay on Sammy when he got home? He reckoned right off that he wouldn't mention Rastus. He didn't want Sammy knowing about his little side business anyway. He figured he'd mention the rumors going around the ad agency about Brenda getting engaged.

He frowned. Yeah, he'd drop that one on him. He wanted to see how Sammy handled it. He might have had him every night the past week, but he didn't know what Sammy Taylor might be doing with Brenda during the day. He'd find out when he dropped that tidbit on him. He just hoped that whatever it was didn't ruin their relationship. Sammy was the best thing that'd happened to him in his life.

Once Paul found out where he stood vis-à-vis Brenda would be a good time to tell Sammy about her being in his office. If there wasn't anything happening between the two of them, then Sammy needed to change the locks at work and at home so that she couldn't get in again.

Paul didn't want Sammy upset on the drive out to the mountain that evening; he didn't want to find out that the man was doing an AC/DC scene with him and Brenda, either. But, if there wasn't anything between them, then Sammy needed to know that his former girlfriend was snooping through his stuff. Paul decided sometime during the quiet, relaxed weekend ahead of them would be a good time to bring it up. There wouldn't be anything else happening anyway and Sammy would have gotten over any anger he might feel before they returned to Atlanta.


Paul's cheek stuck to the window and his mouth gaped as I pulled onto the drive from the access road and got out to unlock the chain. He'd been quieter than usual as we left Atlanta and he'd started sawing logs about the time we'd passed through Gainesville.

I couldn't really blame him for falling asleep, though. I'd had to shake off the effects of road hypnosis myself two or three times from Seneca up to Mountain Hollow.

The padlock opened in my hand before I insert the key. |Why did you bring him along?| Sam asked inside my head.

I looked up to find Sam standing naked just inside the chain, his arms folded over his chest. His dick was at full mast as he watched me, waiting. I felt the familiar itch flare up my ass.

I decided to try this telepathy stuff. |Because I wanted to, Sam,| I told him and wondered if he could hear my thoughts.

|He's not a Taylor.|

|So what? I wanted to bring him.|

|I've made it plain as day that none of my people fools around outside the family, Sammy.|

"Bull shit!" I growled aloud. "You don't own me, and it's time you accept that."

My concentration was centered on his dick and I was salivating as the chain worked its way out of the post in front of me and snaked across the drive.

|Stop playing with my head, Sam!|

|Playing?| I felt the chuckle reverberate through my mind.

|Controlling then.| I forced myself to look up into his face as I moved to stand up. |Get out of my head, Sam -- now!|

|You're mine, Sammy boy, and I intend to keep you.|

|How? By dominating me, Sam? By bending me to your will? If that's what you have in mind, I can guarantee you that I'll never belong to you. The first time you let go of me will be the last time you see me. I'll get far enough away from you that you can't control me again and I'll stay there. Is that what you want?|

"You make a lot of money off the family business, Sammy -- that'll hold you to me and you know it," he said aloud.

"Dad made a lot of money off of it. I'll inherit his estate as soon his will is probated. I don't need the Taylors or the foundation. Not if it means that I'm not free to make my own choices."

Sam was silent for several moments and I felt almost tickling sensations in one section of my brain and then in another. |You'd actually do that,| he thought at me finally, a feeling of surprise surrounding the thought. A sense of resignation spread over me. |May I, at least, communicate with you this way?|

"Why? You like the feel of my mind or something?"

|I like everything about you, Sammy. And I prefer telepathy to speech because speech hurts my throat.|

|So, use it, Sam,| I told him. |I'm beginning to like it as well -- it's sort of kewl.|

|Jesus Christ, boy!| I felt incredulousness, regret, anger, surprise, and just the hint of grudging respect flow through me. |So, where does this new independence of yours leave us?| he asked finally while studying me.

|I don't know, Sam,| I told him. |I wish I did.|

|What the hell is that supposed to mean?|

|I think I know how I feel about you -- at least sexually...| I looked back at the car, uncomfortable under his continuing scrutiny. |But, then, I don't know how much of that is really me and how much of it is your suggestion.| I shrugged, my back still turned to him. |That pretty much leaves us nowhere until I can separate the two things in my mind.|

I instantly felt a blank grow up between us, like a wall. "So, why're you up here, Sammy, boy?" he finally asked and I understood at that moment just how poor speech was as a means of communication. All of the feelings and senses that had come with his words when they appeared inside my head were gone. I could only hear each individual word.

"I wanted..."

"You wanted to come up here and let that man there in your car fuck you in my bed in my house on my mountain -- is that why you're here?"

"Paul might hear..." I mumbled, suddenly ashamed that that was a part of why I had brought him.

"Pshaw! He'll stay asleep til I wake him up -- unless you tell me I can't control him when he's on my property."

"Why can't he fuck me -- if I want him to?" I demanded.

"I had hopes that you had more morals than an alley cat, Sammy. I guess you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"It means that I was hoping that you'd stay faithful to me -- or to Henry and me -- after I'd backed off on having you exclusively."

I stared at him, drained of all feeling. "You have the gall to throw that at me?" I managed through clinched teeth, anger roaring through me. "And you go around popping the fucking cherry of every boy on this mountain?" I took several deep breaths. They didn't help; I was still seething.

"You treat the people on this fucking mountain like they were your slaves and you're some Roman nobleman!" I spat at him.

|I haven't touched a man or a boy except Henry since I met you, Sammy.|

I felt his feelings for me swirl through my brain. "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!"

He wagged his head slowly. |I'll meet you and our guest up at the house.| I felt an undercurrent of pleading behind the words. |And try to calm down -- or I'll do it for you.|

"Fuck you! I'm leaving."

He smiled wryly. |I doubt it, Sammy. We need this weekend to come to some understandings.| He faded away, him standing in front of me becoming an image of him doing so which just folded in on itself.

I walked to the car, my mind was calm, though I was completely aware of the anger seething just below its surface. I knew that I was angry and why I was angry. I also felt violated. I'd told Sam to stay out of my head; yet, I was calmer than I could remember ever being before. And just below all that imposed calm was my anger -- at being called a slut, at being controlled, and anything else I could dredge up to be pissed about.

I laughed as the car started to move up the drive. I had the most split mind any sane man could imagine. I had to admit that Sam Adams Taylor was an interesting man.

I just wasn't sure that I'd ever be able to live with him. If that was what he'd been implying before he clamped his calmness on my anger.

But he'd been faithful to me -- at least, to me and Henry. That had to mean that he accepted that his dick wasn't going to be used on every man on the mountain, didn't it?

The itch flared hot in my ass and I was still wondering when I parked whether that was me or if I was having some help. Rousing Paul, I decided it didn't matter if Sam was playing with my head a bit. I did want that dick buried in me. And soon.


Sam was waiting for us on the verandah when I parked the car. Paul became shy the moment he realized we weren't alone.

"You've got a naked boy waiting for us?" he asked softly as we got close enough that he could make out Sam's nudity and slowed his step so that he trailed me. We reached the foot of the steps and Paul got his first gander at Sam's pecker. "Jesus!" he moaned in awe.

"Paul, this is Sam," I said by way of introduction. "He lives here on the mountain." I wasn't ready to go into a lengthy explanation of my relationship with Sam yet. I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready for that.

"Glad to meet you," Sam said in that mountain twang and stuck out his hand.

Paul stared at my great-grandfather's pole and licked his lips. His hand snaked out and went directly for the thick nine inches jutting out at him.

|Sam!| I thought wrapped in a growl of warning as Paul's fingers went around that dick.

|I'm not controlling him, Sammy,| Sam told me. |The man's just plain dick hungry.|

Paul sank to his knees and his upper body began to lean toward Sam's groin. His face was blank, his gaze didn't waver. He licked his lips again.

"Perhaps we should go inside?" I suggested. Christ, it was November, after all. I wanted something more comfortable than a wood floor to play on, anyway.

Paul was a bitch in heat. He stayed abreast of Sam as they entered the house, as they climbed the steps, and as they waited for me on the landing outside my bedroom. His gaze never left the blond's equipment. Irrationally, I felt dumped.

Had I been falling a little in love with my next door neighbor back in Atlanta? We had had sex every night the past week. He'd been there, standing in his doorway, waiting for me to get home every evening. We'd eaten together and gone out together every night too. I'd gotten to where I expected him to be there. I wasn't ready to call what I felt for Paul love, but it was more than just being comfortable having him around.

I looked up as I reached the top step and realized that Sam was studying me. |What?| I thought at him.

|Are you over being mad at me, Sammy?|

Paul's fingers wrapped around Sam's meat.

|I guess you have your moments,| I told him, imagining his chest pressed against my back as he held me and kissed my neck.

A smile tugged at Sam's lips. |Then, you're going to want me first?| The same image I'd had came back to me but this time my butt jutted back into his crotch more and his pole was definitely sliding into me. The image carried sight, sound, and every feeling I'd had since he started fucking me.

I was hard instantly.

"Get naked, boys!" Sam said and his body just sort of melted out of Paul's hands. "Come on to bed," he called from inside the darkened bedroom, "when you're ready to party."

Paul moved in slow motion, staring into the room, as he got naked.

The light came on and Sam was standing on the far side of the bed watching us as he slowly stroked himself. Paul began to move toward him. My next door neighbor sat on the bed and laid back. I had Sam's word that he wasn't controlling him.

I stepped in front of Paul and he raised his legs and, grabbing them behind the knees, pulled them onto his chest. He shut his eyes and smiled.

|Looks like he's ready, Sammy.| I felt the chuckle reverberate through my brain. |Take him. I'll come around behind you.|

I nodded and leaned over Paul. My dick began to slide into him easily. I felt Sam's cool hands knead my buttcheeks as he got into position behind me.

"That feels so good, Sammy," Paul said, reaching up to pull my face to his.

As I kissed Paul, Sam's fingers spread my cheeks wider and I felt the wide, blunt head of his pecker wedge up against me. His fingers moved up onto the small of my back from my butt. I wondered at how cool he felt to me, from his dick to his fingers.

His knob began to enter me, spreading me open. I concentrated on relaxing my butt muscles for him, aware instantly that Sam was not exerting any control over me. I was glad that he wasn't; I wanted to feel him on my own terms. I wanted to know if he could make me feel the way I had every time he'd fucked me, without controlling what I was feeling.

I kissed Paul hard, my tongue taking possession of his mouth. I brought up the fingers of both hands and tweaked his nipples, concentrating on them instead of what was happening inside me.

I'd thought that Henry was big. Sam was definitely bigger now that I was taking him without any help from him. My dick became rubbery inside Paul, losing some of its interest. I wasn't in pain, but I almost was. The head of Sam's pecker reached my prostate; my pole stiffened instantly as it began to slide over my joy spot.

His meat began to feel good inside me as it claimed my ass. His bush pressed into the valley of asscrack, tickling the slopes with its tight, bushy curls.

His hips flexed behind me and he was withdrawing; instinctively, I followed, keeping as much of him inside me as I could. My pecker pulled from Paul's fuckchute as Sam's did mine.

His hips flexed again as his knob reached the backside of my sphincter and he was again entering me, pushing me pack into Paul. I broke away from the kiss with my next door neighbor and laid my face against his chest. My body moved as it was guided by Sam's. Sam kept it slow and smooth; he humped me and I humped Paul.

I laid against Paul and began to soar. My ass, my dick, and my balls were all a ball of pleasure riding higher and higher with each new thrust in search of critical mass. I voiced my approval with each movement behind and in front of me. Paul's chin rode the top of my head as he moved it from side to side. Our voices joined in counterpoint as we sang a dual ode to pleasure under Sam's direction.

Time no longer had meaning. Old stars winked out of existence and new ones were born. Feeling, except for that in my ass and dick, ceased to exist for me. The bedroom and, even, the bed did not exist. All reality centered in my butt and pecker. Pleasure flowed over me in a continuous wave, a flow that would never end. And Sam plowed on, an unstoppable force loose in my universe.